


Carnal Heat

by cokeh84



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-18 06:31:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/876698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cokeh84/pseuds/cokeh84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets a job at a strip club owned by Crowley King.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The place is loud. Lights flash, and music blares, and the hordes of bodies all pressed up against one another make it hotter than hell. He didn’t know what he was doing here. Really, a male strip club? Could he get any more desperate? Certain desperation called for certain action though, and this was his. There wasn’t a single ounce in him that wanted to do this, but there was a need. He had to do something, or Sammy and him were going to lose the house, the car, everything. Sammy had done enough already. He’s working two jobs and going to school part time, and it’s time Dean did something to help out a little. So here he was. There was good money in this they said, and he had to believe them. He looked down at his watch and muttered something that was drowned out by the voices, the music. He had an appointment with Crowley, nine sharp, and he was fifteen minutes early. The bar was crowed, bodies pushing against bodies in their pursuit to drown out whatever life problems they had. There were men and women, more women, and he pushed between two blond and flagged down the bar tender. He tried to ignore the comments, the compliments, and the outright flirting from the blond on his left. It wasn’t that she wasn’t attractive, but he was focus. 

“I’m here to see Crowley.” He said as soon as he got the bartender’s attention. “I have a nine o’clock appointment.” 

The bartender said nothing as he motioned for Dean to follow him around the bar and led him into a room. Alone, he took a moment to look around. All black and red and screaming of devious thing, the office was a large room that boasted three chairs, a large black stained mahogany desk, and an entertainment center that held flat screens showing feed of the entire club. It was swanky in a not so subtle way and smelled of sweat and cigar smoke. He’d never met Crowley face to face but from the office alone he could make his own deductions. 

He was nervous, there was no doubt about that from the jerky movements he made with his hand, or the utter indecision on whether to sit and wait or stay standing. Thankfully the decision was made for him when a short, pudgy man came in, a cigar clamped between his teeth. “You must be Winchester.” He said, his voice holding what he decided was a British accent. It was hard to tell though, with the cigar absorbing the words. With a chubby hand, boasting a ring or two in thick gold, he removed the cigar, motioned for Dean to sit, and leaned back in his oversized office chair. Dean knew that he was sizing him up, trying to see what lay beneath his clothes, and it made him want to squirm in the chair he sat in. “You’ve got the look. Fit bloke such as you won’t have any trouble bringing in the cliental. Got any dancing experience?”

Yes, definitely a British accent he thought as he listened to this guy talk. He almost missed the question though and for a moment sat there with a blank look across his feature. “Huh? Oh, dancing, yea, I can dance.” He’d taken four years of dance in high school then perfected the art in semi large competitions throughout the area. He could dance; Crowley wouldn’t have to worry about that. 

“Are you willing to work with a choreographer for sets and stage times?” Dean nodded, willing to do whatever it was going to take to get this job. “I don’t know. You’re fit, but a little on the scrawny side.”

“Look Mr. King, I need this job. I really need this job. I’ll do whatever you need me to do to get in shape, I just need this job.” He needed the money, more than anything now, or else Sammy, Charlie, and he would be out on the streets and the streets wasn’t where he wanted his kid brother and adopted sister to be. They deserved more than that, needed more than that. With Charlie starting her second year in college, and Sam headed into his first, he needed this. “If you just give me a chance, I can prove that it won’t be a mistake.” 

Crowley sat there, fingers shifting over the thick stub of the cigar and considered Dean’s words. No one has ever come out and spoke out of turn like that. Not to him at least. The guy was willing though, ready to do whatever it took to get himself prepared for this job. He leaned forward, grabbed a pen and paper, and scribbled a name and number on it. “I want you to get in touch with this guy, soon as possible. He’ll take you through some sets, help you get in shape. I want you stage ready by Monday. This isn’t a job, it’s an audition. You pass it and the spots yours.” With a dismissive motion of his hand, he leaned back and waited for Dean to exit his office. This was a business and he had things to do to run it.

Dismissed, Dean rose from the chair and stepped back out into the loud heat of the club, strangely surprised that he had landed at least an audition. Looking down at the paper in his hand he nodded. Castiel Collins. He had little less than a week to get ready, and this guy was going to help him. He hoped he wasn’t one of those muscle bound exercise freaks because this would go down the shitter and fast. He weaved through people, the writhing bodies, and took a deep breath of fresh air when he hit the door. A strip club wasn’t exactly where he wanted to work, but it was money, and he really needed money. 

***

Thursday morning came quick, and he didn’t feel any more rested when he crawled out of bed than he did when he crawled in. His mind was circling around this job, trying to talk him out of it, giving him a hundred reasons why he needed to do it. Before he knew what he was doing, his cell phone and the piece of paper was in his hand and he was dialing the number scrawled across it. The first ring knocked him out of his own head and before he could hang up, a scratchy voice came over the line. What time was it anyways? A peek at the clock said it was well after ten, but the sound of this guy’s voice indicated that Dean had woken him up. 

“Hello, is someone there?”

“Yeah, sorry. Castiel Collins?” Dean asked, pretty sure he might have gotten the wrong number. And even if he hadn’t, the guy was likely going to be pissed about being woken up, and pissed that Dean was a space cadet this morning. 

“That’d be me, what can I help you with?” The more the guy talked, the more a sense Dean got about him, and maybe that scratchy sound was just the way he spoke. 

“I was referred to you by Crowley King, owner of Carnal Heat. He said that I should work with you to be stage ready?” He wasn’t sure why that last part came out as a question, but he couldn’t take it back now. Either this guy wasn’t going to know who he was talking about, or he’d already been informed. There was no telling as silence seemed to span across the line, the only thing audible the static from the connection. 

“Uh yea, I got some openings today you want to come by, let’s say around four or so. Don’t eat anything, unless you feel like getting sick. I’ll feed you after, show you want to put into your body for optimum performance.” Great, he was one of those muscle bound health nuts. That was exactly what Dean needed. Goodbye bacon cheese burgers and apple pie. “Sure, that’ll work. Address?” After scrawling it down, he hung up the phone and paced a little. He was going to get in over his head, he knew it. He didn’t have the first clue about stripping, but when his long time buddy and best friend Gabriel suggested the place, he promised he’d check it out. Gabriel’s wife, Chastina, worked there as a waitress and she had promised that the money was good and the patrons were decent. It wasn’t one of those sleaze clubs that were found on the lower end of the city, but a higher class joint ran with rules and respect. Shaking himself out of his mind frame, he went to take a shower before making breakfast. Charlie and Sam would be up soon, and he figured they deserved a home cooked breakfast before Dean slammed the news down over their heads. 

***

“A strip club?” Charlie was the first one to say anything after what felt like a forever amount of silence, and even then, it wasn’t what he wanted to come out of her mouth. Charlie was the dependable one, but she was blunt and honest to a fault. “You’re not kidding, are you?” Dean detected a twinge of disappointment in her voice, but he didn’t say anything about it. Instead, he looked towards Sam who was currently chewing on a strip of bacon.

“What? I don’t know what you want me to say. It’s a strip club, and if that’s what you think you need to do, then I support you.” Sam knew just as Charlie and Dean knew how important it was that they earn the money to pay off the bank before they lost their house. The house had been in the family since forever and he couldn’t just let someone take it. Uncle Bobby wouldn’t have wanted that. “But you don’t like it, do you?” Dean accused, pushing his still full plate away and looking at his brother with an intensity that Sam squirmed under. “It doesn’t matter if I like it. We need the money.” Dean sighed and shook his head, looking back at Charlie as she snagged some of Dean’s bacon from his plate. “What? It wasn’t like you’re going to eat it. Don’t worry about what we think, get up there, shake your tail feathers, and earn that money. We’re behind you a hundred and ten percent of the way. I’ve got to go, though. Meg is waiting for me and you know how bitchy she gets if I make her wait for long.” 

Meg was Charlie’s longtime girlfriend and was just a little pushy. Waving his goodbyes, he turned his attention back to Sam. “It’s not like I’m going to be doing it forever. Just long enough to get the twenty grand, and then I’m done. It’s not fair to you that you and Charlie both have to work two jobs, and I’m not.”

“Dean, I said its fine. We all have to do what we need to do. Uncle Bobby wouldn’t want us to lose the house, and it isn’t like Dad is helping us. It’s a strip club, big whoop. Eat your breakfast I have to go to work.” And then school, Dean knew, and watched his baby brother take off. It was going to be a long time between now and four and he knew he was going to drive himself insane. To distract his mind, though it really didn’t work, he began clearing away the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen. He wasn’t sure what to expect when he got to this Castiel’s place, but he was sure it was going to be extreme and exhausting. The last thing he was going to want to do was clean the house when he got home.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean works with Cas on his audition dance

Four o’clock came quick, and by the time Dean pulled the Impala up in front of the house, he was more nervous than he thought he’d ever been. The house was nice, situated in the better part of town, and boasted two stories of stucco. The front door was red, a complete contrast to the rest of the tan paint that covered the outside, but it had made it easier to find. He carried a gym bag with him to the door, full of things that he thought he might need. Castiel never gave him a list of what to bring, so he threw in some jogging pants, a tank top, and a couple bottles of cold water. He had forgone eating lunch because of Castiel’s warning, and his stomach was currently growling in defiance. Squaring his shoulders, he moved up the walk and knocked on the door. He had had no idea what to expect when the door was opened, but the slightly shorter guy with hair that looked like he had just climbed out of bed, chapped lips, and the bluest eyes he’d ever seen was not it. 

“You must be Dean. I’m Castiel, come on in.” He left the door wide open for Dean to go through and walked back into the air conditioned coolness of the house. No, not what Dean expected at all. Then again, Bobby had taught him long ago to never judge a book by its cover. “Nice place.” He muttered, unsure of what else to say. Castiel seemed to be like the take charge kind of guy and it left Dean sputtering for something to say or do. 

“Thanks, it’s my brother’s and mine. Michael is at work right now, his wife and kids at the park. They tend to stay clear of the house when I have clients over.” Castiel seemed to be a chatty kind of person, never once considering that he was over sharing. “We’ll be working out back. I’m not sure why Crowley thinks you need strength training, you’re pretty ripped. Betcha got a six pack under that shirt there, don’tcha?” 

Again nerves seemed too bound through Dean as Castiel made his assumptions and all he could do was gape before finally nodding. “I try to work out twice or three times a week.” And he ran whenever he got the chance, mostly when Sam was in one of those antsy moods though. 

“What’s your diet like?” Dean feared that question, because he knew no matter what he said, Castiel wouldn’t be impressed. 

“Uh…not great.” There was no point in lying he figured Castiel would find out eventually. “I eat a lot of fast food, bacon cheese burgers, pie. I love pie.” 

Castiel laughed, though he shook his head. “We’ll have to change that. Those things in moderation aren’t bad, but the things you’re doing to your arteries, your heart, they aren’t good. We’ll get you on a diet that is suitable for the exercises you’ll be doing.” He grabbed a clipboard and led Dean out back into the massive and shady yard. A dog ran around back there and instant Dean froze, watching it for a moment. “Oh, that’s Brutus, don’t worry about him. He’ll most stay out of our way.” Dean and dogs just didn’t mix. He should have warned Castiel about that. There was a deep seeded fear there, and it showed in the jerky movements he made across the patio and into the grass. 

“Great.” He didn’t sound enthused, not in the slightest, but when a Saint Bernard the size of a house came lobbing towards you, enthused wasn’t something you’re expected to be. “Good dog.”

“Brut, go lay down!” Castiel yelled and the dog instantly veered off his current course, headed straight for Dean, and went to lay down by a tree, a squeaky toy in his mouth. “Shall we get started?”

***

By the time the hour was over, every inch of Dean felt like it was on fire. They stretched, though a fat lot of good that did, did jumping jacks, lunges, sit ups, push-ups, and everything else under the sun, and when Dean climbed back into the Impala, all he could do was sit there for a moment and whine it out. When his phone rang, he grumbled, hissed at the pain as he tilted his ass cheek to dig for his phone, and answered it with a grunt. 

“That bad huh, boy-o? Maybe you should lay off the fried foods. Which is totally what I’m calling to talk to you about.” Gabriel talked a mile a minute and it took everything in Dean not to tell him to shut up, that he just wasn’t in the mood. “Chas wants a get together. She keeps saying it’s been too long, and that she misses you and Sam. Tomorrow night work for you?” 

As much as he loved Gabriel, and his wife, and their four year old son Xavier, he just didn’t know if he was in the mood for the family gathering thing. If Chas was thinking a barbeque, he knew that meant the whole kit and caboodle. Jo, Ellen, Raphael, Balthazar, hell he was sure even Luci would show his face. And that was a guy that Dean really didn’t want to put up with, or have to keep away from his brother. He didn’t know what it was about the guy, but he had a constant hard on for Sam no matter how many times Sam explained that he had a girlfriend. “Uh, sure, I guess. Five?” Five was the normal time they all got together. “Charlie is going to want to bring Meg, that alright?” He was sure that Gabe wouldn’t have a problem with that, but Chastina might. 

A couple years ago, Meg and Chas got into a huge fight over something that belonged to Chas, but Meg swore belonged to her. In the end, it tore their friendship to shreds, and it was always awkward between the two of them. “It’ll be fine I’ll just warn the misses and hide all the sharp or blunt things.” Dean couldn’t help but laugh at that, promised he’d be there and even bring a pie, and hung up. All he wanted to do now was go home, soak in a long, hot bath, and forget that he had to do this all over again tomorrow morning.

***

He didn’t get to soak in the tub. In fact, he was lucky that he got to take a shower. Sam was home by the time he limped through the door and threw his bag on the couch, and wanted to go out for a little while. Charlie was off with Meg somewhere, and Sam was bored. Besides, he had pointed out, Dean’s time was going to be eaten up by work and Sam barely got time off, so now was the perfect time for it. He couldn’t disagree, asked for ten minutes to at least shower the sweat and stink off, and was ready and waiting by a quarter to seven. 

He hadn’t a clue what Sam was planning, but whatever it was, he hoped air conditioning was involved. The summer was scorching, and he was pretty sure he had the start of a sun burn across the back of his neck. “Where are we going?” he asked, following Sam out of the house and to the Impala. “I was thinking Russ’ Pizza, and then Cold Stone and you can tell me all about how your first day of training to be a stripper went.” 

Dean knew, had expected it really, the razzing that he was going to get from Sam. He knew his brother had a problem with the choice of job he picked, but there was nothing he could do about it. He had promised Crowley to at least do the audition, he had to at least do that much. “You know it isn’t a for sure thing, right? I have to audition, Mr. King has to like what I’ve got to offer, and even then, I’ll be lucky to get the job.” But it was roughly a grand a night in tips, and he couldn’t say no to that. Not when there were bills to pay, and a loan to pay off. 

“You’re going to get it. I’ve seen you dance. There is no way Mr. King is going to turn you down. Besides, Chastina vouched for you, and her word is as good as gold.” 

“True, but we’ll have to wait and see.” 

Dinner was greasy, just like he liked it, and he was going to miss this. But he promised Castiel that he would work on straightening out his diet and sticking to the exercise program that they put in store. Tomorrow they were going to work out for a whole two hours, and then work on the choreography for the dance he was going to audition with. He was going to be sore, he knew it, but if he got the job, it would be well worth it. Sam pestered him with questions, slammed him with possibilities, and then treated him to a double scoop of peanut butter cup in a waffle cone. All in all the night didn’t end too badly, and when they got home, he headed straight up to bed. 

***

Morning came early, too early in Dean’s opinion, but when his alarm went off he rolled stiffly out of bed and finally got to soak his sore and screaming muscles in a hot bath. By the time he got out, Sam and Charlie were both already gone, leaving him question free and able to get ready without interruption. 

By the time he arrived at Castiel’s he was wide awake and ready to get this show on the road. Which was why he was confused that Castiel came out of the house, car keys in hand, instead of going in. “We’re going shopping. Crowley’s orders.” What was Castiel, Mr. King’s bitch? Dean had to wonder for a moment if that was the case. Something screamed at him that Crowley didn’t exactly play on the right side of the field, but to each their own he supposed. He didn’t get that feeling from Castiel though, and maybe he was reading too far into things. “He wants you to have an outfit for your audition. Peeling off sweatpants and sweaty tank tops usually isn’t appealing. Though…” And for a moment, he appeared as if he was going to say something before shaking his head and moving to climb into the car.

“There’s this place, just outside of town, that offers stripper exclusive clothing. It’s about a half hour drive.” Dean nodded to the explained and leaned back in his seat to enjoy the ride. He was thankful that Cas hadn’t suggested taking the Impala, because as much as he loved and babied that car, she ate gas like it was going out of style. 

An hour and a half later, and they were back at Castiel’s sweating it up, working out and dancing. The steps to the dance weren’t really that hard to remember, and at some points, he seemed to add his own in that Castiel approved of. By the end of the three hours Castiel gave him, he was once more sweaty, sore, and tired, but he felt damn good. Monday was going to go off without a hitch, and he was going to get that job. He kept repeating that to himself the entire drive home.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean auditions for Crowley.

Monday came in a blur. By the time eight thirty came around, Dean was a twitching bundle of nerves who couldn’t even tie his own shoes. “It’s going to be alright.” Sam said, leaning in the doorway to Dean’s room, a bottle of beer in his hand. “You’re going to kill it and get the job. I don’t know what you’re so worried about.” Charlie chimed in, sitting backwards in the chair that went to Dean’s desk. He didn’t know either, but he couldn’t get his hands to stop shaking and he was afraid that he was going to have to ask Sam to tie the laces to his boots. “Because it’s big, guys.” He explained, even though he was sure neither of them would understand. “If I don’t get this job, we lose the house, and we’re out on our asses.” Shaking his head, Sam stepped forward and offered the beer to his brother. “We’ll be alright. You’ve taken care of us for what, four years. Since Bobby died, you’ve done all that you could to keep us going.”

Sam wasn’t wrong. He had done all he could, taking in extra cars at the garage, doing odd jobs as he found them. But he wanted something permanent. The garage wasn’t doing so well, and the odd jobs didn’t pay so much. This was his one chance to have something good in his life. He needed it. “I’m going to be late.” 

Charlie stood then, handing Dean the bag they had prepared for him the night before, complete with the barely there outfit that Castiel had deemed appropriate, and a spare pair of pants. He didn’t know why he needed all the junk. He was doing one dance, and if Crowley didn’t like it, he wouldn’t be doing another. “Ok, thanks. I’ll see you guys… whenever.” 

As Dean headed out the door, Charlie looked to Sam and shook her head. “He’s going to be fine.” Now if they both could just believe that, maybe they’d get some sleep tonight. 

***

Carnal Heat was packed. Cars lined the streets, people wrapped around the block waiting to get in. And in the middle of it all stood Dean. His nerves hadn’t gotten any better. In fact, they had gotten worse and he was pretty damn sure there was a visible sweat mark trailing down the back of his shirt. The same shirt that Crowley came up and slapped before he grabbed his shoulder. “You ready for this, boy-o? You’re lookin’ a little green around the gills.” 

“I’m fine.” It was a bold face lie, but he’d be fine. He just had to give over the nerves that threatened to strangle him. 

“Good. I’m looking forward to seeing what you’ve got. Go ahead and go back stage, the guys are waiting to meet you. If you need any help, or feel like booting, there’s a bathroom.” 

Great. That just gave him a whole boat load of confidence. But he shook his head regardless, weaving his way through the people and towards the back. He didn’t make it very far before Chastina, Gabriel’s wife, spotted him and waved him over. “Don’t want to keep you long, but wanted to wish you good luck.”

“Thanks.” He said with a smile. Chastina was a small woman, topping out at about five feet, two inches, but her personality made up for the lack of stature. She had dark hair, and a light complexion, and if you looked at her in the right light, you could see a resemblance to Jo. Her eyes were huge, and the color of warm honey, and she had a smile as wide as the Mississippi. “It was good seeing you at dinner the other night. Xavier’s getting huge.” Xavier was their son, two years old and so full of life that it was impossible not to smile when he was around. He was the curious sort too, always wanting to know what this was, and what it did that. Dean loved him, loved spending time with him, and wished for just a little more most days. 

“Yea, he’s growing like a weed. Hopefully he’ll be tall, since Gabe and I got gipped in that respect. I better get back to it though, just wanted to wish you luck.” Giving him a quick hug, she bounded off to go take more drink orders, and left him to his own devices. 

Figuring that he might as well get this over with, he moved through the throngs of people and made his way to the back of the stage area, instantly greeted by a very large handful of men in all different stages of undress.

***

“I’m Michael, you’ve met my brother, Castiel.” It came as a shock, kind of, to see the guy that was his trainer’s brother, working here. Small world, he supposed. “I’m the stage manager. Let me introduce you around.” Clamping his hand on Dean’s shoulder, the tall, blonde male began carting him around. 

“This is Garth, our DJ. He likes to go by Mr. Fizzle, for some strange, geeky reason. You’ll give your music sets to him, and he’ll set you up for your slot. Did you bring your music tonight?” 

“What? Oh. Yea.” Digging in the duffle bag, he pulled out a CD in a clear plastic disc with his name written over it, and handed it to Garth. He had Charlie to thank for the music choice, and Castiel to thank for putting together a dance to go with it. “Thanks, dude. I’ll set this up for ya. Good luck and all that jazz.” 

“Don’t mind him. He’s a little weird, but great.” Dean nodded as he watched the tall, lanky man walk off to a bunch of sound equipment and plugged in the CD. He didn’t get to watch for long though, before he was drug off to meet more of the guys. There were five of them all together, including Michael. Samandriel, the youngest, looked like he was barely pushing eighteen, and had a light about him that was hard to not be effected by. Then there was Andy, a little nerdy, but nice. He supposed chicks when for that type sometimes. Uriel was the last that he got to meet before he got the shock of his life, a young African American that had the whole world in his eyes. He seemed eager to meet Dean too, pumping his hand with a handshake that could have dislocated his shoulder. “Crowley’s told us a lot about you. I’m excited to see what you’ve got. We need some fresh meat.” Dean nodded, now kind of curious as to what Crowley had said anything about him. He didn’t get long to dwell on it though, before Michael turned them and he came face to face with a familiar face. 

“Castiel, you already know.” Castiel smiled sheepishly, and all Dean wanted to do was punch him in the shoulder. He could have said that he was a dancer here too, and not just the go to health nut. “I’ll leave you two alone.” Michael said before disappearing somewhere behind racks of clothing. 

“So, man of many talents?” he asked, eyeing Castiel over. It probably shouldn’t have come as such a shock, not with Michael working here too, but he couldn’t shake that feeling.  
“You could say that, I suppose. I’m sorry, I should have told you.”

“No, it’s ok, really. I just didn’t expect, even though I should have.” Shrugging, Dean sat his bag down on the arm of a couch that seemed to be the cache of everyone’s crap. How they kept it organized to who it belonged to, he had no idea, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. 

“I wasn’t sure how’d you take it, though I guess now that I think about it, it might have been easier.”

“Dude, seriously, it’s alright. I don’t have a single right to complain about what you do with your life.” And it wasn’t like he was in any better of a situation. “Besides, it’s cool having a familiar face about, makes me less nervous.” Or maybe it made him more nervous. But this was Castiel, the guy who had helped him perfect his moves. He’d be alright. 

***

He hadn’t been wrong. The audition went off without a single hitch. He hit every step, dipped every dip, and walked off staged with over three hundred dollars in tips, cash that he was allowed to keep regardless of whether he got the job or not. That was something at least, he thought. Castiel, Sam, and Charlie were all waiting for him behind the curtain. 

“What are you two doing here?” he asked, confusion written all over his features. He hadn’t expected Charlie, let alone Sam, to come and watch him take his clothes off for a bunch of women. 

“We came to support you. That’s what family does.” Sam said, and near had Dean kicking himself. He should have at the very least, invited them. Now he felt like a jerk for not even offering, and here they were anyways, supporting him as family does. “You killed it, by the way.” Charlie added, reaching up and hugging Dean before pulling back and making a face. “You’re sticky.” He was drenched in sweat, could feel it pooling down his back, and he only laughed because he was sure under the harsh lights, he sparkled with it. “Sorry.” He said anyways, turning to look at Castiel.

Castiel only had a smile for him, and offered him thumbs up before his expression changed and he made a sly movement a pointing. For a moment he was confused as to what it was that he was doing, but he turned around and looked anyways. 

Crowley was quickly walking up the hallway, headed straight for them, and there was an unreadable expression crossing his features. Dean’s breath hitched and stuck in the back of his throat, and the single hand on his back was the only thing that broke him out of his trance. “You’re going to be fine.” The voice belonged to Castiel, making promises he didn’t know if he could keep. Dean nodded anyways, part of him terrified, the other part anxious to know. If he didn’t get the job, oh well. But if he did, and that was what he was hoping for, then Sam and Charlie would be alright. They’d all be alright. He released a shaky breath, squared his shoulders, and followed Crowley into the room he motioned him into. He heard Charlie and Sam, and even Castiel, mutter their good lucks before he closed the door and turned to face his fate. 

Destiny and all that mumbo jumbo wasn’t something he believed in really, but right now he was hoping that this job was written in the stars for him. “Sit down.” Crowley said, his voice a near growl, and Dean could only obey. Lowering his still sweat slicked, half naked ass into the chair, he waited for that ball to drop. He waited to hear the words ‘Sorry chap, but you’re just not cut out’. In fact, he heard the words echoing over and over in his head that he hadn’t heard the words that were actually spoken. “Wait, what?” he asked, blinking back shock, surprise, and mostly confusion. 

“I said…” Crowley began again, shaking his head at Dean’s obvious distraction, “if you can keep your head out of the bloody stars for half a damn minute, you’ve got the job.”   
Elation spread through Dean so quickly he almost couldn’t stop himself from jumping up, from screaming, but mostly from leaping across the desk to hug Crowley. “I’ve never seen someone quite like you before, and I believe you’ll bring a real flair to the company. Go on now, go tell your family, celebrate on me tonight, but I want you in here Wednesday night training and putting together new dances with Castiel. You’ll continue to work with him on your own time too. Now get out of here.”   
Dean leapt of his chair, thanked Crowley a few times in a rush of words and breathes then near ran out of the room and to his grinning family, Castiel included. “Got it.” And with a resounding ‘whoop’, the three of them, Charlie, Sam, and Dean, went to go celebrate on Crowley’s dime.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I first wanted to apologize for the chapters coming so sparsely. I am a procrastinator, and I don't get them done when I want to. I hope, regardless of my slow posting, that those who read do enjoy this work. Thank you.

Charlie, Sam, and Dean celebrated, way into the wee hours of the morning. At some point they were joined by Ellen and Jo, and even Chastina stuck around after shift to hang with them. By the time the lot of them literally crawled from the cab and into the old house of Bobby’s, they were thoroughly drunk and practically passed out in all manner of ways on the living room floor. Somehow Charlie had ended up using Dean’s ass as her person pillow, and Sam as her personal footrest. When Meg walked in the following morning that was exactly how she had found them. Dean was the first to wake up, the scents of coffee and bacon perfuming the air. “Huh… what?” he muttered, smacking his lips and groaning at the cottony texture of the inside of his mouth. Oh yea, they had partied and celebrated maybe a little too hard last night. Carefully he shifted out from underneath Charlie, cradling her head with one hand while shoving a couch pillow under her with the other. The smell that perfumed its way through the house directed him towards the kitchen, and when he stopped in the doorway, he leaned against it and crossed his arms.

“What are you doing?” It was uncommon to see Meg in the house, let alone cooking a meal on his stove. She either wanted something, or was working up to a mighty big fit. He couldn’t tell from the way that she was standing, back facing him. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” The answer was obvious, but he wanted to know why she was doing it. Cooking wasn’t Meg’s specialty, and he feared a little eating anything that she put together. There wasn’t a whole lot of like between the two of them, and really that suited him just fine. She was Charlie’s girlfriend, but Dean wasn’t going to claim that she was in any way, shape, or form his friend. “You could get plates and stuff down.” 

Pushing his ill thoughts away, he shrugged his shoulders and did exactly that, grabbing down four plates, four glasses, and four sets of silverware. “What are you here, Meg?” He just couldn’t shake the feeling off that something wasn’t quite right here. “You usually don’t show up here unless something is wrong. Or you need money, which I don’t have, so if that’s it, you don’t need to bother.” 

The slamming of the pan against the stove had him jumping and Sam calling out from the other room in a half sleep like way. “What?” he asked, obviously having pissed her off to the point that now she was going to throw some kind of tantrum. 

“I don’t just come over when something is wrong, or when I want something you pathetic ass. I came to do something nice, because Charlie texted me at four in the morning telling me she, and your dumbasses, were so drunk you couldn’t walk. I thought maybe, just maybe, you’d want some fucking breakfast. Apparently I was wrong. Cook you own damn shit.” Her voice, grating, did absolutely nothing for the headache that was brewing, but he put his hands up anyways and sighed. “Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I, we, appreciate it.” 

By then, Sam and Charlie had both woken from their dead sleep and joined them in the kitchen, Charlie automatically going to Meg’s side and wrapping a comforting arm around her. “Hey, don’t listen to him. He’s probably hung over, and you know how he gets when he’s hung over.”   
That seemed to calm Meg down enough to get her to nod, kiss Charlie’s cheek, and go back to finishing breakfast. “It smells good.” Dean tried, and only earned himself a glare. “Whatever.” Plunking down in the chair, he wished for coffee, and that wish came true as Sam poured them each a cup. “Don’t you have school?” he asked Sam as his younger, gigantic brother, plopped down in the seat across from him. 

“I’m taking the day off. My head hurts.” All of their heads hurt, and he wouldn’t be too surprised if Meg and his row didn’t add more pain to that pounding. He tried to push it out of his mind, not focus on the pounding, and enjoying his breakfast. He needed to call Castiel and set up some more times to train and learn new dances, and when he finished off the last piece of bacon, he rushed off to do just that, leaving Charlie and Sam to wonder what he was up to.

***

Castiel didn’t have any time available for today and Dean was more disappointed than he realized he’d be. He hadn’t spent much time with Castiel, but he still was starting to enjoy his company. Besides, he needed a new routine for his next dance. He had gotten he job, he didn’t want to ruin keeping it by performing some lame routine that had the entire establishment booing. 

Calling Gabriel instead, he set up a time to get together with him to shoot the shit and what not. He hadn’t had a whole lot of time to spend with his friends, and since he had taken the day off from the shop, and didn’t have to work at Carnal Heat until the next night, he figured today would be a good day to reconnect with pals.

***

Gabriel brought Xavier, and that wasn’t a bad thing. Chastina was apparently asleep, as she had worked a late night, and Gabe thought it’d be nice to just let her be.   
Dean currently sat, waving a rattle at the toddler, and was trying to pay attention to what Gabriel was saying. “Chas said Crowley was thoroughly impressed with you. Said that if you keep coming out the gate with some of those moves, he might make you a headliner. Piss Michael right off.” 

Michael was the stage manager, and current headline at Carnal Heat. He’d be pissed too, he supposed, if some newbie came and pushed him out of the slot he had worked hard for. Rolling his eyes, she shook his head. “I highly doubt that’s going to happen. Castiel works with both Michael and me, and Michael is Cas’ brother, so I’m sure he wouldn’t do anything to get him pushed out.”

Popping some M&M’s into his mouth, Gabriel shrugged. “You never know. Might be some family strife there, and maybe your Castiel wants to get big brother out of the way.”   
“You’re reaching Gabe, and it’s whatever. If Crowley likes me, that’s all that matters right now. I can’t afford to lose this job. For one dance, I made three hundred. Just imagine what I’ll bring in a night.” And that wasn’t even counting his hourly wage, which was shit, but the tips more than made up for it.

“Good, then you’re paying for lunch.” The squeal that Xavier released at that had both Dean and Gabe chuckling. 

“Looks like Xav agrees.”

***

Things seemed to be picking up at the garage, as the following day he got phone calls for six oil changes, two tune ups, and someone needed a new transmission and spark plugs. He didn’t mind the work. If he did, then he wouldn’t have kept the shop open. Coming here, every day, seeing everything that belonged to Bobby, it incite a pang in his heart that he couldn’t ignore. He was thankful for Sam’s company today, because without it, he might have gone insane. The conversation, however, wasn’t something that he was enjoying.

“He’d have been proud of you, you know that.” Sam said, fiddling with a wrench while Dean was under a car taking the oil pan off to start the oil change.

“I didn’t say he wouldn’t have been. All I’m saying is, I’m sure he’d rather see me put more time in here, bring the place back to what it was.” The shop had been Bobby’s baby, kind of like the Impala was to Dean. To see that it was barely garnering any revenue would have broken the old man’s heart. 

“You’re doing what you can here, and Charlie is learning a lot, so you’re not going to have to hire anyone else for a while.”

“Yea, but you have school that has to be paid for, and there are bills, and the loan. The shop isn’t going to be enough to keep us afloat, and we’re not losing the house.” Sam was in his third year of college, and that cost money. It wasn’t Stanford, but it still had to be paid for. 

“I only have one year left, and when I get out, I can take the bar and start taking small cases. You shouldn’t have to do this alone.” 

Dean didn’t want to argue about this. They always argued. Sam felt that he was half responsible for paying the loan off, even if Dean said he wasn’t. He was the older sibling, and with Charlie’s help, they’d get it paid. He just wished they weren’t on such a time crunch. “Hand me that wrench you’re messing with.” Bending over the car, Sam handed the wrench through a slot in the car and stood back up. “Oh, hey Sheriff Mills, how’s it going?” 

“Ow! Shit!” Sliding out from under the car, Dean rubbed his greasy hand over his forehead and pulled away with a dot of blood. “Hey Jody, what can I do for ya?” 

Jody was Bobby’s widow. They had married only a few short months before the tumor had taken Bobby from them. She rarely came around anymore, and when she did, it was because something was going on. Dean watched her with a steady gaze, but everything about her posture told him nothing as to what she wanted. After a couple moments of tense silence, Sam finally piped up, excusing himself and heading inside. It was clear to the younger brother that Jody wanted some alone time with Dean.

“Soda?” Dean offed, standing from the rolling cart that he had been on and moving to the mini fridge that he had installed a couple months after Bobby’s funeral. 

“No. This isn’t really a social call, Dean.” No, he didn’t suppose it was. Jody rarely came over for social calls anymore. Bobby’s death had been hard on her. He was, after all, the second husband that she had lost, and it took a toll on her. “The loan officer at the bank called me, since I co-signed on it. They’re cutting the due date back two weeks.”

“Two weeks?! That only gives me a little over a month to come up with twenty grand!” He wasn’t losing this place. It wasn’t happening. Bobby had worked his ass off to keep this house his, and Dean wasn’t about to let it just go without a fight. He had been raised here, Sam had been raised here. He couldn’t just give it up. “This sucks.” He sighed, running a hand through his short hair and shaking his head. The soda didn’t seem good anymore, and all he could thing about was having a beer, or maybe something stronger. “You sure? Can we, I don’t know, give them some now and get an extension?”

“They’ve already given us an extension. It was supposed to be paid by the end of last year, but with Bobby… They gave us all the time they could.” She didn’t like it any better than Dean did. No matter what happened, they were still family, still her boys. She didn’t want to see them out on their asses any more than Dean did. “Look, I’ve got a little in the way of savings, if you need it, it’s yours.”

“I couldn’t do that, Jody. You need it.” Life hadn’t exactly been easy on her. After Bobby died, she had lost her job, and was forced to sell her own house and move into an apartment that was barely livable. “You could make back in here, Jody. We’d welcome you with open arms. This is just as much as your home as it is ours.”   
She shook her head and Dean couldn’t help the frown that followed. “I can’t Dean, you know I can’t.” Yea, he knew, but that didn’t stop him from wanting her there. She was more than a friend to him, she was almost a second mother. “Well, if you ever change your mind, the offer is always open.” She nodded and he smiled. A part of him wanted to pull her into a hug, but since Bobby, she hadn’t touched anyone in the way that would express any kind of emotion. He knew it was hard, but part of him wanted her to get over the grief, to come back to the life, and the family, that missed her. “I’ll see you around kid, keep your nose out of trouble. Oh, and congrats on that new job. I heard it was pretty sexy.” 

With a blush, Dean turned back to the car he was working on, shaking his head. That put a rare smile on Jody’s lips as she climbed back into her own car and drove away.


	5. Chapter Five

Wednesday came in a flash. It felt almost as if he just blinked and it was here already. Dean had thought that he was nervous before, but nothing could ever compare to this. This was his first official day as a hired dancer at Carnal heat, and while he might not get more than a four minute track of stage time, he had to do his best. Cas promised to meet him at three to go over and refine some of the steps to the dance that they had picked. From their earlier training sessions, they had gone over five of the dances, and aside from the one that he had used to land the job; he liked only one just as much. 

“No, Dean no.” Castiel’s voice was strained, hinting at the edge of irritated. “Did you not rehearse any of this?” 

“I did.” A little bit anyways. Dean hadn’t had much time between details at the garage, visiting with Jody, and taking care of Sam to really focus on getting these dances down. If Cas would have not put him off the day before, then maybe he’d have this down more, he thought. Shaking his head, he motioned to Garth to start the music again. “I’ve got it, I promise.” 

Cas was skeptical, but he moved to sit back at the table that faced the main stage in the club to watch. Dean had the body of a god, he had thought, he just needed to move it in a way that suggested power, persuasion. Cas didn’t doubt that Dean would get it, but they only had three hours to make it perfect before the doors opened and they didn’t have the whole stage to practice on. “Ugh! Dean!” The music shut down again and Castiel jumped onto the stage and strode to Dean, poking him in the chest. “You’re going to lose this job quicker than you got it if you don’t pay attention. Whatever it is that you’ve got on your mind, get rid of it and focus.” 

Right, easier said than done. There was a lot clouding Dean’s mind, but he didn’t want to talk about any of it to Castiel, or with Garth sitting right there watching them like a hawk. “Sorry. I’ll do it. I can do this.”

“You better. My reputation is as much on the line as your job, so get it right. It’s like this.” He said, moving to stand behind Dean, a single hand cupping his bony hip and the other moving to rest against Dean’s left thigh. Dean became instantly hyper-aware of Cas standing there, right behind him. For a moment he froze, teeth gnawing into the inside skin of his bottom lip. Then Cas moved, twisting his hips one way and directing Dean’s to follow, before kicking his thigh out the other, Dean’s following right behind. “You’ve got to pop right here,” Cas instructed, showing Dean exactly what he meant in the movement of hips, “and then right here or the effect is totally lost.” Cas stepped away and Dean’s breath punched right out of him. “You’ll also be removing the shoulder of your vest at the same time. Practice it like you’re doing that.” Again, quickly and not touching Dean, he showed him what he wanted him to do before stepping off the stage and motioning to Garth to start the music up again. 

***

Three hours later, and the place was already packed. Dean watched as men and women alike came crawling through the door, filling up the seats that lined the stage, and the seats that followed behind them. “I’m going to puke.” 

Sure he had done this once already, but he had zoned out for that. He’d let the music carry his body, and he wasn’t exactly sure he could do the same thing again. “You’re going to be fine.” Cas chirped from behind as he changed into a pair of ass-less chaps and a leather vest that had a sheriff’s star pinned to it. Dean couldn’t help but see the irony in that, but quickly shut it out. He had to do what Cas said, and just get in the moment. He couldn’t let his world interfere with this one, or Crowley was going to kick him to the curb, and Dean couldn’t afford that. 

Taking a breath, he turned to watch Castiel for a moment, eyes more drawn to the man than they really should have been. It took him moments too long to realize that he was staring. “See something you like?” Castiel asked with the hint of a grin playing over his lips. 

“Um… ah… Those pants.” Trying to cover up what he was really looking at, he pushed off the arm of the couch and moved to circle around Cas like he was checking out the pants and not the ass that was clear as day hanging out of the back of them. “I think I want to wear these for my set Friday, you cool with that?” Yes, because that was the smoothest cover up ever, and the knowing smile on Cas’ lips told him he had failed. 

“Sure. I might even let you take them off of me. With your teeth.” 

Scarlet rose in Dean’s cheeks as Cas sashayed away with all the attitude and sass of a woman, and Dean could only shake his head. He couldn’t believe he had got caught gawking at Castiel like that. This was supposed to be a professional relationship, and here he was making goo-goo eyes at his dance instructor and co-worker. Pathetic. He was only thankful that Sam or Charlie hadn’t been able to see that, because they would have given him shit to no end. 

“You’re up next, Dean. Five minutes.” 

Oh yeah, he was definitely going to puke. At least he had five minutes to do it in. 

***

Five minutes sure came and went fast, and Dean hadn’t had enough time to slip into the bathroom for a smoke, let alone a good ole fashion booting of the contents of his stomach. His nerves were more than shot, and with as many times as he fucked up during practice earlier, he didn’t think that he was going to do this and do it right.  
He worried that Crowley was going to be watching, and he was going to miss a step and that when he did, he was going to get laughed off the stage and right out of the building.   
He tried, tried so very hard, to do what Castiel told him to do and let it all go, but the moment Kick N Lick, Who Knows came pounding in bass-filled pulses, his entire body was covered in a sheen of sweat. 

Breathe, he told himself, because really, that was all he could do now. All eyes were on him, and if he missed a step, he couldn’t even think about what would happen.   
With the first prominent pound of the bass, Dean came sliding out onto the stage on his knees, sending the women into screaming fits, and the men into appreciative hollers. From that moment, he let the music dictated his movements. 

Sliding his hand from the top of that sweat covered chest, all the way down to his groin, he grabbed it, thrust into it twice to the beat of the bass, and turned to climb back onto his feet. Two steps forward brought him to that center bar, and for a couple pulses of the music, he ground against it like he was grinding against his first prom date, though with less nerves and more gyrating hips. 

He knew it was coming up, the spot that he kept choking on, and feared that he was going to choke on it again. As he spun away, swiveling his hips and receiving another roar from the crowd, his green eyes met Cas’ blue ones and for a long moment he remained still. Garth was whispering something to him, but he couldn’t make out what it was. Michael was on the other side of the curtain staring at him with anticipation, but the only thing that broke through his consciousness was Cas. 

With the memory of Cas’ body pressed against him, guiding him in those movements, he swung back to the crowd, his hip dipping, popping in one direction, his hand coming up to the corner of his vest, and as he slid his hips the other way, popping them and his leg out, he pulled the vest from his shoulder and sent the crowd into a frenzy. Money began to flying towards him in troves, littering the stage in ones, fives, and he was sure he spotted a couple twenties. He couldn’t think about that though. He wasn’t even close to finished, and there was more money to be earned, more dancing to be done.

***

By the time he rushed off the stage, arms full of clothes and cash, his heart was pounding a mile a minute and his skin was sheened in a thick layer of sweat. That didn’t seem to bother Cas in the slightest as he came and squeezed his arms around Dean, jumping up and down with excitement. “Did you see that crowd! They could have eaten you up, you were that sexy! And you did it! You got the move!” He was pretty sure Cas’ excitement could be heard all the way out into the bar, but he couldn’t help but get caught up in it.

“I know! I can’t believe it myself!” And while he was excited that he didn’t choke, he was more excited that Cas was proud of him. Peeling himself away though, Cas seemed to get some semblance of control over himself and nodded his satisfaction. 

For a tense moment, there was a sort of awkwardness between them, only broken by the interruption of Crowley. “I need you in my office, Dean.” 

What? For a moment Dean blinked, unsure of what he had done wrong, but he followed behind Crowley anyways, turning to look at Cas before he disappeared around the corner and into Crowley’s office.

When he sat in the chair, arms still loaded with clothes and cash, he looked to Mr. King, but didn’t say a word. He worried though, and his brain was running a mile a minute. Had he done something wrong? Was he not good enough? Was Crowley going to fire him? He expected the worst, and prepared himself for it.

“You did good kid.” Well, now that wasn’t what he was expecting. “So good, in fact, that I am getting requests for private parties.” Wow, Dean couldn’t imagine. People liked him so much, that they were going to his boss and asking for him specifically? “Really?” 

“Really. You’re a hot commodity, makes me glad I hired you. I guess the biggest question is, would you do private parties? I’m sure we could work out a percentage that is fitting for both of us on how much is retained for such events.”

It was a lot to think about, especially with having just started. He was only two dances in and he had no idea what to expect with a private party. “Can I think about it? Get back to you on Friday?” He’d be able to discuss it with Sam and Charlie, get their thoughts. And maybe even Cas would have some input. It would be a big step, not only for him, but for Crowley. 

“Friday it is. Let me know. Now go get dressed and count that money. I know you’re itching to.” 

Crowley wasn’t wrong. He was most definitely itching to count the money, but more, he was itching to talk to Cas about the offer that Crowley had just made. The sucky thing was, when Dean went backstage again, Castiel was nowhere to be found, and Michael was glaring at him like he had kicked his puppy or something. Yeah, it was time to go and he did just that. He’d call Cas in the morning, see what he thought about the whole thing.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is approached by Alistair. Michael gets pissed at Crowley's offer to Dean.

Twelve hundred dollars. Dean had to count the money twice when he got home, but there it was. He was twelve hundred dollars richer, and that was just in the money that he had made on the stage. He could only imagine what kind of money he would be making if he chose to do the side gig of private dances. He still wanted to talk to Sam and Charlie about that, something that was going to have to wait for the morning, and then he wanted to talk to Cas about it in the afternoon when he went for their workout session. Of course, he wanted to talk to Cas about some other things too, mainly the flirting between them, but that could be done later. 

He didn’t even know what to think about it, nor the attraction that he had for the man. That was something that had crept up on him and slammed him in the face without realizing it. It was strange, and completely out of character for him. He hadn’t, up until this point, been attracted to men. In fact, Sam liked to refer to him as the womanizer ninety nine point nine percent of the time. And maybe that was true. He did go through a lot of girlfriends, his last being Lisa, but none of them really ever stuck. 

Maybe he wasn’t the commitment kind of guy, or he wasn’t interested in staying for the long haul, but whatever it was, Lisa had been his longest relationship and that had been more off than on. She had a son, cute kid named Ben, looked a lot like him, but that wasn’t what he wanted. Kids weren’t something he saw in his future. Not yet anyways. He still had Sam to worry about, and Charlie, and the loan payment. Kids, and the long haul, weren’t something he focused on. But maybe that had a lot to do with the fact that… shaking his head he pushed that thought right out of his mind. 

He wasn’t gay. Not in that way. Sure, he could appreciate the look of the same sex, hell he could even classify them as sexy, but he didn’t want a sexual relationship with them. But Castiel, man he just couldn’t stop thinking about him.

“What are you thinking about?” Charlie’s voice jarred him from his thoughts, causing him to drop the iPod that he had been programming with music for his upcoming stage nights. 

“No one… I mean nothing. What? What are you doing? You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.” He turned ten shades of red, and he knew it. He could feel the heat from it, and what was she doing sneaking up on him anyways? She should be in bed it was closing in on three in the morning. 

“I got hungry, came down for a late night snack, saw you sitting here day dreaming. Who were you dreaming about?” Curiosity wasn’t something that was going to kill Charlie’s cat, and Dean knew that if he didn’t give her some kind of answer, that she was going to pester him, get Sam to pester him, until she did. 

“Lisa. I was thinking about Lisa and what she was doing. And Ben I miss that kid.” That wasn’t a lie. For a kid, Ben was pretty cool. They had a lot in common, and for a long time, he had thought Ben might have been his. A DNA test proved that that was not the case. He would have been proud to be his father, but that wasn’t in his cards right now. “You should go to bed. You’ve got work in the morning don’t you?” 

“Nice attempt to change the subject, but no I don’t. And I don’t buy that Lisa bit either. I’ve never seen you get that look on your face over her. So who were you really thinking about? Don’t try to bullshit me this time.” Charlie said, waving the banana she had claimed in his face before she began peeling it.

“I don’t want to hear no shit about it, and you can’t breathe a word of it to Sam.” He could trust Charlie. She was attracted to the same sex. Hell, she was dating and sleeping with Meg on a regular basis, something that he didn’t even want to think about, so she’d get it. “Castiel, I was thinking about Castiel.” 

“Is that that guy that was with us back stage the other night? With the oh my god amazing blue eyes? He’s dreamy.” She said with a sigh as Dean confirmed that was exactly who he was talking about. “I could see where you’d be attracted to him.” 

He knew that he could count of Charlie not to give him too much shit over it, and hopefully she wouldn’t say anything to Sam, because that was a bullet that he would love to dodge for a long while yet. “You should tell him you dig him, see where it goes. Or else you’re going to get that la-la-land look on your face every twenty seconds. Take it from me, just do it.” Pointing the half eaten banana at him, she grinned and padded off, telling him to get some sleep. Because sleep was exactly what he was going to be able to do right now. Not.

***

The bank was closed for some random ass bank holiday and Dean could have screamed of frustration. He had fifteen hundred dollars burning a hole in his pocket, and he needed to get it into the savings account a.s.a.p. Besides, he didn’t feel comfortable about having that kind of money on him at any given time, and it made it easier to save to be able to pay off the loan. 

His pocket buzzed with what he assumed was an incoming text, but when it kept going, chiming into the tune of Kansas, Carry On My Wayward Son, he fished it out of his pocket and slid his thumb over the screen. “Hey Cas, how’s it going? I was just about to call you.”

“You were? Sweet. Looks like I was reading your mind. What time did you want to come over today? I have a blank schedule.” It sounded like he was running, puffs of air causing static across the line. But Dean ignored that in favor of looking at his watch. “How about in an hour? That work for you?” After a couple more puffs of air, Castiel agreed to meet up in an hour and ended the call. He shoved the phone away and turned away from the bank doors, resisting the urge to kick at them and almost ran into a tall, lanky kind of guy.

“Whoa sorry guy. Wasn’t watching where I was going.” 

“No problem. Hey, you’re that Dean guy aren’t you?” For a moment Dean was confused, and then thought maybe this was one of those guys that liked to come watch other guys strip. 

“Yea, I’m Dean.” He said with a half-smile, moving to take a step away from the guy. He didn’t realize that these kind of meetings were going to be that awkward. Hell, he didn’t even think that he was going to be approached by someone of the same gender who had watched him strip. Unless the guy was openly gay, he was pretty sure most guys would want to keep that one the down low. 

“I’m kind of… you could say a fan. I seen you dance last night and couldn’t take my eyes off you. I could use a guy like you at my place.” 

“That’s nice… than… wait, what? Your place? What do you mean?” 

The guy dug a card from the inside of his button up shirt pocket and handed it towards Dean. Dean looked down at it, a business card for a joint called The Rack, another all male strip club. “I’m Alistair, owner and operator of The Rack, and I was serious, I need someone like you.”

“Sorry guy, I’d love to, but I’ve got a job already."

That didn’t quite seem to matter to Alistair. “I can offer you double whatever King is paying you, and can guarantee you twice the tips if not more. Why don’t you come check it out on your night off, and maybe we can discuss it more at length later.” 

Dean wasn’t the type to throw a good thing in someone’s face after they had offer him a spot at their place, but he felt like he owed Crowley more than that. “I’ll come check it out.” He didn’t think that would happen, but he stuffed the card in his pocket and bid the guy goodbye.

***

By the time he reached Cas’ house, he was ten minutes late. “Sorry, got held up by some guy who was a fan of my work.” He explained with a sheepish laugh, shaking his head. “Actually, this guy owns another strip joint just outside of town, offered me a job at double what Crowley is paying me.” 

“You don’t mean Alistair, do you? Dean, you can’t even consider working for him. Azazel, the stage hand for Carnal, worked for him a couple of years ago and he came to Crowley pretty messed up. Alistair isn’t good to his dancers, not like Crowley is.” 

Dean hadn’t even really been considering it anyways, because he wasn’t the type of guy to shit on someone else, but as Castiel explained, he shook his head. “I’m not. He kind of trapped me as I was leaving the bank, which was closed by the way, and gave me this schpeal why his club is better and that he’d pay me double and all that. I’m not going to do that to Crowley after what he offered me. Speaking of which, before we get started, I wanted to talk to you about that.” 

If Dean was going to do private shows, he was going to have a manager, besides Crowley, to negotiate the terms, and since Castiel was a certified lawyer, even though he didn’t work in that field, he was going to offer Cas the position.

“Crowley got a couple of inquiries about me doing private shows, and I think it’s a good idea, and so do Sam and Charlie, but I wanted to get your opinion on it. Think it would be worth it?”

Cas seemed to be thinking about that question long and hard and he didn’t come straight to an answer. In fact, he remained so silent that Dean was sure that at any minute there might be some kind of jealous rage coming. 

“That’d actually be a pretty good idea.”

Blowing out the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding Dean nodded. “Yeah? Ok, so here’s my other pitch. I need someone who is law smart, someone who can get me the best percentage so it’s actually worth doing. Basically, I need a manager, think you can do that?” 

Again, silence followed that question. In fact, there was so much silence that Castiel had gone about setting up the weights and the mats and what not for their workout session. Finally though, after what felt like forever, he nodded. “Yeah, I can do that. I don’t do a lot of legal things for a reason, but I’ll do it for you. But I get a percentage of what you get.”

“No, totally, that’s cool. I wouldn’t expect you to do it for free. Oh hey Michael, you joining us today?” 

What came next Dean didn’t expect. In fact, he was pretty sure that Michael and he were pretty chill. He supposed though, that he was wrong, when Michael stormed up to his younger brother, got right in his face, pointed at Dean, and yelled. “Get him out of this yard right now. I don’t want him on the property I don’t want him anywhere close to here. In fact, it’d make my day if you never looked at him again. You’re the only reason he got that side gig of Crowley’s and I know it.” 

“Whoa Michael, dude chill. What are you even talking about? I haven’t accepted the side gig from Crowley yet.” 

“Shut up. Seven years I’ve been headlining for Crowley and you come in. Two days, and you get an offer that I have been working towards for seven years. Get out. I don’t want him here Castiel.” 

Jealousy was a mean and green evil bastard, and it was apparent that he had struck that cord in Michael. Raising his hands, he shook his head and started backing off. “I’m out. Catch up with you later, Cas.” 

If that could have gone any worse, he was pretty sure it would have. The last thing he needed right now though, was an enemy at his job. This was going to be hell, and he knew it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to all my readers that have been waiting ages for me to come out with a new chapter. I haven't had the time to write and I didn't write any chapters in advance so I could post them regularly. I will try to get the next three chapters out in a decent amount of time. Thank you for your patience.

Hell hadn’t been the right word for what it was like at Carnal the following night when Dean showed up. Even ‘Mr. Fizzle’, the DJ Garth, wouldn’t even look at him in the eye. This couldn’t have been good. Michael had a lot of sway with these people, and Dean was pretty sure that if the guy so much as snapped his fingers, everyone would follow him like a lost puppy looking for a couple scraps. This wasn’t going to be good at all. He’d get through it though, because that was what he was supposed to do. He was here to do a job, not to make friends, so the job he would do. Even if he had to find a trainer other than Castiel. Something, if he was honest with himself, he didn’t want to do. 

His discussion with Charlie had left him thinking and thinking a lot. There was an undeniable attraction to the man, and Dean couldn’t ignore it even if he wanted to. He had caught himself twice already standing there looking longingly at the back of Castiel’s head. This wasn’t good, especially if Michael had a vendetta against him. 

“Hey.” He said, finally moving from his place by the communal couch and walking over to Cas. The look the other man sent him was one of what Dean thought was fear and nervousness. 

“Hey. Give me a moment Rufus.” Guiding Dean into a small room that was full of costumes and other apparel, Castiel closed the door and locked them inside. “I can’t be seen with you Dean. Michael will have a holy roller of a fit. It sucks, I know. I wanted to tell you though, that if you decide to take this side gig, I’ll still support you and be your manager.”  
That was a relief. With all this between Michael and himself, he expected and wouldn’t blame Castiel for siding with his brother. It was good to know that Cas wasn’t just going to up and leave him hanging. “Thanks. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.” Things were confusing as it was, he couldn’t afford to not have a friend in the ranks of all these people. “I don’t want you to get in trouble with your brother though, so I am going to turn down the offer. I make enough here that I don’t need the side gig.” And if it made things better between him and Michael, then he’d do it. Bad blood was not something he wanted or needed to deal with right now.

***

As promised, he went to turn down the offer when the night was over. It was stressful working in a place that no one would even look at you, and if turning this gig down was something that needed to happen to make that right, then so be it. 

He only had to knock once on Crowley’s door before the short British man called him in and motioned to a seat. “So did you think about the offer? Are you going to take it?”  
Nerves bounded in Dean, tightening and shaking as he looked anywhere but at Mr. King. “I have thought about it.” He admitted. He had thought long and hard about it, and while yes he could have used the extra money, he couldn’t handle the tension backstage because of it. “I’m going to have to turn it down.” 

The look of disappointment was more than apparent on Crowley’s face and Dean felt horrible. The guy had been nice enough to both give him a job and find him something that would give him extra money. “Can I ask why? This is an opportunity of a life time, and you’d be daft to just let it slip through your fingers. These kinds of offers don’t come about very often.”

“It’s just that…” He didn’t want to point fingers at Michael, but he knew that no matter what he said, Crowley would know what this was all about. “I don’t really have the time for it. I’m looking into going back to school, and I have my brother and adopted sister to look after. I can’t spread all my time out like that.” And this, he thought moments later, was where Crowley figured it out. “You should offer it to Michael, or someone else. Someone that’s been here longer.” 

Yes, Crowley got it in that moment, and the look that crossed his features was a look that could and would scare small children. It even made Dean shrink further into the chair he was sitting in with hopes that he could disappear from it. “Michael got to you, didn’t he?” Crowley expected an answer that much was evident. At the moment though, all Dean could do was nod. “Making it hell for you back there, isn’t he?” Another nod followed the first, but Dean still couldn’t look at the man. “And it’d make things worse if I talked to him about it, wouldn’t it?”

“You can’t. He’d know I came in here, talked to you about this. It’s already tough enough I don’t need any more problems with the guys.” And really, that was the truth. He didn’t need any more problems period. He’d already lost his trainer, and whatever friendship Cas and him had been building was squat now. He couldn’t afford and didn’t want anything else to be strained. He liked this job, he’d really hate if he had to quit.

***

The following evening something had changed. Garth came up to him in high spirits, people actually looked at him, even Chuck had come out of hiding and directed him through his set later that evening. The strangest thing, however, was Michael and the fact that he had come up and apologized for his behavior. Part of Dean wondered if Crowley had talked to him and told him to cut the bullshit out. And if that was the case, these friendly faces were just the calm before a storm that was going to ride all over his ass and beyond. 

He couldn’t think about that though, because Cas came bounding up to him, all smiles and moving hands. Cas did that a lot, Dean had noticed. When he was excited about something, passionate about something, or indifferent about something, he moved his hands when he spoke. It was the most adorable thing he had ever seen, but he never commented on it.

“So, we can start training again. I don’t know how you did it, but I’m thankful you did. I’ve never seen my brother this happy, aside from when he married Lilith.”   
Dean had no idea what Cas was going on about, and the look on his face read that much. “You don’t know what I’m talking about. Crowley gave Michael a side gig. He’ll be dancing at private affairs and making a great deal more than he is already making.”

Dean was almost shocked, really. He had expected Crowley to do something, but he hadn’t expected this. The thing was, Dean’s offer was still on the table as well. At least from what Cas said. “So are you going to do it? And more am I going to still be your manager?” It was a lot to think about, and Dean couldn’t seem to come up with the answer. “If I take this, is your brother going to be riding my ass again? I can’t do it if he is. Things were tense last night, and I can’t go through that again.” 

“No, he’s cool with it. He even suggested that I be your manager. He thinks you’re a god for getting this for him. If he would have known it would have been that easy, he would have asked you to talk to Crowley sooner.” Not that Dean was bothered by that, but it seemed kind of out of place to him. Michael had been ready to tear his head off the other day, and now he wanted to be best friends? There was something that Dean just couldn’t trust in that. Maybe he was a cynic, but he didn’t trust that easily, especially after what had transpired between Michael and himself. “Yea, I’ll do it.” He said at length causing Cas to jump around with excitement. “Ok, ok. I’ll draft up a contract tonight and bring it to you tomorrow at your place. We can go over it and if you like it, we’ll take it to Crowley. Sound good?” 

Dean agreed to it and gathered his stuff to go change. The night ran smoothly, and when he moved off the stage after his set, he figured that was going to go all to hell when he saw Michael standing there waiting for him. “Come into my dressing room?” he asked and Dean could only look around before nodding. His arms were still full of his clothes and the cash that he had earned from his dance, but he followed anyways, closing the door behind him with a bare foot. “What’s up?”

Michael stood with his ass propped up on the short vanity, looking at Dean like he was either going to pounce and pummel him, or pounce and kiss him. Dean really wasn’t sure which. “You don’t have to be so nervous I’m not going to hurt you. I just wanted to thank you. I’ve been waiting seven years for this opportunity, and I can’t believe you got it for me.” 

Dean still wasn’t sure how he had gotten it for Michael, but he shrugged. “It’s really no big deal.” It wasn’t, and he really didn’t want to take credit for something that he was sure he didn’t do. But Michael seemed intent on thanking him for whatever it was that Crowley had offered him. “If that’s all, I really need to get home.” He didn’t, but standing there, in Michael’s dressing room, was very awkward. 

“Before you go, I wanted to ask you something else. Something on a more personal kind of level.” He waited a beat, two, before he continued. Dean’s heart was pounding like a thousand drums in his chest. “I’ve seen the way that you look at my brother, how close you two have gotten in such a short amount of time. Now, I’m not one to really get into my brother’s business but I think it would be smart if you made your intentions known.”

“Intentions?” Dean asked, unsure of what it was that Michael was really talking about. Sure, he had an attraction to Cas, but it didn’t go beyond that. They were friends, and Cas was soon to be his manager. He really didn’t like to mix work and pleasure and didn’t want there to be any hurt feelings on either side. “I like your brother. Cas is a really special kind of person, but other than that, I don’t really have any intentions.”

“You can lie to yourself, Dean. You can even lie to anyone else, but you can’t lie to me. I see it when you look at him, and yesterday you carried a solemn look around with you. You care for him, and not in the friendship kind of way. Make your intentions known, or back off. I won’t see Castiel getting hurt.” 

***

When Dean left Carnal heat, it was with mixed emotions and unanswered questions. Did he really display that kind of attraction to the man that everyone else could see it but him? He tried to convince himself that it was just that, attraction, and nothing more but he knew he was kidding himself. There was something there, and it wasn’t only on his part. He could see the way in which Cas looked at him, felt those tiny touches that Cas couldn’t seem to help himself with, and knew what there was behind them. But mixing business and pleasure, that could have disastrous results. Results in which he didn’t want to get mixed up in. That, and so much more would have to be thought about in the next could of days. His plate was becoming so full that there just wasn’t room for anything else.


End file.
